


This is No Game

by endearment



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Death, F/M, Games, Hunger Games, Love, My First Work in This Fandom, This is no game, cornocopia, cornucopia, hunger, ky - Freeform, rhine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endearment/pseuds/endearment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its the 15th annual Hunger Games and it's all Rhine Evans knows. So when she is chosen, she almost expects it.  But she definitely doesn't expect her best friend Zane to be chosen as well. Once in the arena, they must work together. But Zane is holding a grudge. And hot, sexy, bad-boy Ky is determined to win her heart before time runs out. Who will Rhine choose? Will she fall in love? Or will she die in the arena before she has the chance too? Follow Rhine on her journey filled with pain, heartbreak, death, and most certainly love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is No Game

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, short authors note I'm just reporting my work from wattpad, my username is @_heartless_ so go check out my other story too(: thanks

~~Rhines POV~~

 

I can feel the sweat make a river running down my forehead as I swing my axe repeatedly. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was all I ever did. Help provide for the family, since my oh so loving father decided to turn to drugs and alcohol at the first sign of a rebellion. He was crazy in love with our government at the time. I used to miss him like crazy, but then I realized, as I grew up, that he would never come back. He'd never tuck me in at night. Never blow me kisses on his way to work. Eventually my heart stopped breaking everytime he didn't come strolling down the street at night. I used to ask and ask my mother, pestering her about why he never came home because we missed him. Now, I beg her to not talk of him. Because when she did tell me, I was horrified of my own father.

 

I sighed, thinking of my little innocent brother, Christopher. He didn't grow up with him. Lucky little boy. It was hard to think that it was almost his first reaping. He was only 10. At 12 years old, it was the youngest you could be to get entered into the reaping. 18 was the oldest. I am 17. I only have a year of this torture and then I will be free. Then all I will do is worry. About little Chris being chosen.

 

I hated this. The Hunger Games. The way the Capitol could take a girl and a boy from each District and throw them in an arena filled with unimaginable pain and tortures. But some people, helped orchestrate this horror. They thought of the deadly traps. The Gamemakers. They probably sat back on their couchs with popcorn and made bets on who would be the winner. 'How do you win?', you ask. Its the last person standing, out of 24. 12 Districts, two from each, one girl and one boy between the ages of 12 and 18. We must kill each other. We have the Hunger Games because of District 13. They got all rebellious, so the Capitol blew them up about 14 years ago.

 

My father was extremely strict and lovingly followed the Captial like a slave. This is how the they keep us in line. They make us celebrate the Hunger Games as a way of "getting rid of" the rebels. Today is the day they choose who will go into the arena. The Reaping. It is a day where all the shops close early and we dress up to get our death sentence. Because who could survive in an arena where almost everyone is your enemy? I don't think I could do it. The Reaping bell gongs and startles me back into reality. I hear my name.

 

"Rhine Marie Evans!" I hear my mother calling to me, probably so I can get dressed up in one of her fancy gowns. She has like one hundred of them, I swear.

 

I want to avoid that so I throw my axe on the ground so it sticks out and run towards the small wind around porch quickly to avoid her watchful eyes. I run up the steps to our tiny four-oom concrete house and take note mother's plants wilted. She could never get them to grow quite right after one of the biggest storms we had ever had. I run quickly up our mini flight of stairs and slam my door shut. I guess I'm picking out my own clothes. I throw my closet doors open, wondering what on earth I will wear. I finally decide on skinny jeans and a plain blue T-shirt. I know I will probably be the only one in jeans but I could care less. I go into my bathroom and take a quick shower. I throw on the clothes and decide to curl my hair, otherwise my mom will really kill me. I decide I look presentable and head downstairs to grab a snack before we are required to leave.

 

I spot Chris in the family room, which is basically a couch and a small tv. I run in and give him a quick hug. He smiles that adorable smile. Chubby cheeks and all. Light blonde hair rests on his cute head in baby curls. His green eyes have yellow specks in them. I wish I had normal eyes. One of mine is green, the other is blue. I got my mom and my dad's eyes. Luckily its not creepy, if it was, I'd defintely get contacts. If we could afford them.

I smile back, noticing his smile is tight. It doesn't quite reach his watchful eyes. Of course it doesn't. It is Reaping day after all. He takes in my outfit, and his smile grows untill it reaches his eyes.

 

"Mom's gonna make you change." he smirks. How does he even know how to do that at that age? I roll my eyes.

 

"She knows I hate dressing up, especially if I'm gonna get chosen." I say. I see him wince slightly, and I know I went too far. I sigh, "Sorry Chris. I'm just on edge. You know why." He gives me a small nod, the sweet smile gone from his face. In its place is a frown.

 

"Mom won't tell me." he says sadly, looking down. I frown. Mom was supposed to tell him weeks ago. Its a sore subject in our house. Really sore. I sigh again. I will tell him if Mom won't.

 

"Christopher, do you know why we hate the Hunger Games?" I ask. He shakes his head, and I know I have his full attention because I never use his full name unless I'm serious. I continue, " because we lost someone very special to us. Our brother." I say, tears threatening to spill. "He was chosen when you were little. He didnt survive." I notice Chris's cheeks have tear tracks running down them. "His name was Sylvan. He was only 2 years older than me." He looks up.

 

"How old was he when he was chosen?" He voice is small and pitiful.

 

"He was 17." I say sadly. The tears spill over. "Everythings gonna be alright. Okay?" i say, trying to comfort him.

 

"O-Okayy."he says shakily. I hear a sob and turn to see my mom crying in the doorway. I stumble over to her and she smiles at me through tears.

 

"Thanks for telling him baby. I dont think I could have done that." She whispers in my ear. When Sylvan died, she was in a void that she couldn't get out of. The only reason she was able to get out of it was because I told her she had a responsibility to care for Chris and be a mother. I told her I didnt want to become a "mother figure" for Christopher. I love him to death, but he needed his real mom. Once mom shook out of it, she refused to speak about it. Chris wasn't ever told, and I figured he had a right to know.

 

"Welcome Mom." I say back. She chuckles at me. "What?" I ask. She points at my outfit.

 

"You are not wearing that. Stay right here." She dissapears into her closet and is throwing random clothes out trying to find a certain dress, I suppose. She mutters to herself. Then she stands up in triumph, holding a white frilly thing. She throws it at me.

 

"No." I say sternly, pushing the horrible dress away.

 

"Yes." she says in the authoritive voice she only uses when she really wants me to do somthing. I have nothing against it. She's already pulling out the big guns.

 

"Ughhh, fine." I say running upstairs. I throw on the dress and look in the mirror. And for the first time, I see what other people see.

 

I look gorgeous. Beautiful. Everything everone has ever told me before seems true. And this time, I can see it. No. I can believe it. My normally fire-red hair is toned down by the white lace-covered strapless dress. My green eye seems to have emerald flecks and my blue eye has touches of purple. The dresses' pink sash accents my pouty lips.

 

I am always modest. Except for today. Today I will allow myself to feel like the prettiest girl in the world. Maybe the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach will go away. I go downstairs slowly, and my mother gasps. I see tears in her eyes as she hugs me softly.

 

"My baby girl has grown up." she whispers into my ear. Tears are brimming my eyes as I thank her.

 

"Thanks mom. What shoes should I wear with it?" Her eyes light up and suddenly I feel that Sylvan is forgotten. She runs back into the room with a pair of satin pumps with a bow on the top. There is no way she is getting me in those.

 

"Yes." she says sternly, using her authorative voice before I can even speak. Smart woman. I sigh in defeat and take the shoes reluctantly. She's going to be the death of me."You are gonna be the best dressed baby girl." I nod, my smile tight. "Now get out of here. We will have a nice dinner after the Reaping okay?" She asks.

 

"Sure." I say, turning swiftly away before she can see the tears fall.

 

I walk slowly to the City Square. It barely holds District 7's population of about 25,000. We only live about 10 mintues walk from there. Most people must walk an hour or more.

 

I sign my name and file into the section marked "Girls 17" and spot Zane. My best friend. His dark brown hair is freshly cut a few inches donut rests a bit past his forehead, and his big blue eyes look huge.

Everyone thinks he is handsome. I only see him as a friend. Best friend. He smiles tightly, not quite reaching his eyes. I guess I can understand why.

 

He turns away as Finola Hester clears her throut awkwardly into the microphone on the makeshift stage. She is dressed in Capitol attire; a large puffy wig with 6 inch heels and a purple Victorian inspired skirt and jacket. Also on the stage are two giant glass bowls carrying names. In the girls bowl there are 6 of the slips with Rhine Evans written on them. Only 6 slips. Zane only has 7. We should be fine. We will be fine. I must stay strong. Finola is warbling into the microphone about Panems history and I could care less so I zone out. My stomach is dropping repeatedly. Its like falling off a building, forever or a upside-down roller coaster. Finola warbles again into the mic. I wince, wondering if its her sole purpose in life to annoy me. Finally the history of Panem is done and she speaks loudly into the mic once again.

 

"Now District 7, its time to draw our two lucky tributes for the Annual 15th Hunger Games! Ladies first!" She sticks her chubby hand in, circling the bowl.

 

Its like her hand is a shark; circling the prey. Picking one girls death sentence. One out of thosands. It can't be Chris. He's not old enough. Not me. I don't have it in that many. Only 6 slips. My stomach is erupting into fireworks and dropping so many times. I know it wont stop untill I know who the girl is. The girl who will die in an arena full of deadly surprises and people who strive to kill you. Sorry if I'm not optimistic enough for you. Suddenly, the suspense is over.

Finola draws her pudgy hand back; I almost think I will see a shark latching its teeth on the paper.

 

Finola reads the name.

 

I pause. 

 

I'm terrified of what will come when I finally allow myself to realize what's at stake here.

 

"Rhine Evans." 

 

Because for one fleeting second, I allowed the sliver of hope into my heart.

 

I should have let it go, without trying to grab it, because in this world, hope is fleeting.


End file.
